


Breath of Life

by newgame



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Canon, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-02
Updated: 2017-12-09
Packaged: 2019-01-08 05:05:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12247560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/newgame/pseuds/newgame
Summary: The war is over and Jaime Lannister is at a loss at what to do with his life. Struck by the sudden realisation he has fallen for the unlikeliest of women, he knows he has to make his feelings clear, only he has no idea how to go about it.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
> 
> Let's be honest, I am very, very nervous to be adding something to this fandom. I've been involved in many a fandom but this one has the finest writers I've encountered in a long time. So yeah, consider me scared.

I was looking for a breath of life  
A little touch of heavenly light  
But all the choirs in my head sang no  
To get a dream of life again  
A little of vision of the start and the end  
But all the choirs in my head sang no

Florence + The Machine - Breath of Light

While the dust still settled on the battlefields, and families mourned the losses of their fathers, brothers, sons, spring finally arrived. 

There were no more battles left to fight. A new queen was ruling over the Seven Kingdoms, the undead had found their peace.Too many lifes had been lost in the game of thrones, in the search for power and revenge, in the quest to survive the army of the undead trying to rule the world.

When it had looked as if all hope was in vain, a new dawn had broken, the dragon queen deciding the war for once and all, and all they could do was to pick up their pieces and go on. Life, the eternal kaleisdoscope of life and death had painted a new picture, and it was left to them to figure out how they would fit in. 

He knew he was useless in this new world, that it would have been better had he fallen fighting wights.Oh the great irony of fighting for survival, for peace, really, only to find there was no place left in this world for yourself once the ultimate goal had been reached.

What was peace anyway? What did it mean? Peace for the living... peace for the dead?  For a second he thought of Cersei, then discarded the thought. It wouldn't do to poison his mind any longer. They hadn‘t been the same, after all, but two sides of a coin, their paths as different as could be, both of them destined to fight their own battles until the very end. He was still alive, but there had been no redemption for a queen whose mind and soul had been poisoned until there had been no goodness, no forgiveness left.

There was a coming and going in the courtyard, people trying to get out of the rain as quickly as possible, and although it was a miserable day as there could be, the sky grey, rain falling down in a steady stream, there were smiles on people‘s faces here and there. In midst of sadness and despair there were saplings of hope growing in their hearts, hope for a future for those of them still alive.

Tonight there'd be a big celebration at Winterfell, tomorrow people would depart for their homes. They had fought for a common cause, but now they needed to see about their homes and families.

He didn't have a home, but he didn‘t feel bitter about it. Kings Landing, Casterly Rock, had never been a home to him, so when the dragon queen decided to stripe him of his lands and titles but leave him with his life, it hadn‘t hurt. He assumed he could stay and pledge his services to Sansa Stark but he knew the young woman didn't need him. 

Taking a deep breath, he willed his feet to move. He couldn‘t stand here forever, leaning against the wall in a rain that drove anybody sane inside. 

He should at least try to make amends with his brother before Tyrion left on the morrow. He hadn't taken but three steps when he spotted Brienne, entering the courtyard with Pod at her side.  
Against all odds, these two had survived the war as well. For weeks, months they had fought side by side at the Wall, expecting each day to be their last. He hadn't cared much about his own survival but if he'd been one to pray he‘d give his thanks to the deities for keeping Brienne and Pod save.

Today even Brienne wasn‘t in armour but wore a pair of breeches and a tunic in a deep blue that would highlight the colour of her eyes if she were any closer to him.

If it hadn't been for this woman, he'd met his end more than once fighting the undead, a favour he'd returned whenever possible, although it seemed never enough. They both knew she had saved him from himself, a favour he could never repay.

What would Brienne do now? Would she stay with the Stark girl even though her services weren't needed any longer either?

As if sensing his gaze on her, Brienne's head turned towards him, their gazes locking as they had so many times before and for no reason time seemed to freeze.

He felt his breath catching in his lungs. 

Why? Why did it always seem that this woman could look right through him, could see into the depth of his soul. 

Why did he crave it, the same time it scared him more than he could say?

She looked at him with a gaze so earnest it hurt his soul. Brienne deserved so much more than being a discarded warrior, a woman who was scorned by men and women alike.  
Couldn't they see she was so much more than met the eye. 

He allowed a smile to turn his lips up, and his heart missed a beat when it was tentatively mirrored on her face. Right now, her hair tousled from wind and rain, her cheeks red from exertion, her eyes so bright they seemed to shine from within, she almost seemed radiant. She would never be beautiful in a conventional way but she would always be beautiful for him, inside and out. 

The thought, so unexpected, so new had bile rise in his throat while panic wanted to suffocate him.

He didn‘t think about her like this. He didn‘t think about other women than… Cersei was dead and obviously he did think this way about her.

It couldn't be, could it? Could he have fallen for this proud warrior without realising it. He wanted to laugh out, he wanted to...cry as all the moments she turned him inside out came back to him all at once. The bath at Harrenhal, Riverrun, the tense moment at the dragon pit when she told him to fuck loyalty...

She wasn't Cersei and he never wanted her to be. He didn't know what he wanted but he knew with shocking clarity he didn't want to part with her again, not tomorrow, not next week...never?

He had no idea what his face looked like now, but her smile vanished and an expression of distress flickered over her face as she looked away. She looked down at Pod, said something and the two of them walked faster.

Not more than a few seconds could have passed, but since when did it take more to turn one's life upside down. 

He wanted to go after her but then what? Tell her he found out he might have been in love with her for a few years? He snorted. She'd either give him a look full of derision or punch his face. Or... she would look at him with a world of anguish in her gaze, the look of somebody whose feelings had been kicked into the dust one time too often.

'Fuck it," he muttered under his breath, kicking the muddy dirt in front of him.

He knew what it would be and he knew that whatever he said she wouldn't want to believe him. How could she? She trusted him, they had been through hell and back together but this... nothing in his personal history could give his words any credence, could give her a reason to believe him. 

Only she had to believe him, or… Or what? If no wight had killed him, the fact a woman he had feelings for wouldn‘t want to believe him wouldn‘t kill him either. 

He'd see her tonight, during the feast and maybe then he would know what to say, or maybe not. Words had never done him any good.

"Ser Jaime?" Pod was walking back towards him, meeting his eyes for only a few seconds. What was the boy seeing in him? The kingslayer, a cripple, he didn't know.

"Yes, Pod, what can I do for you?"

"Lady Brienne said you might be willing to spar with me. Said it would do the two of us a lot of good."

Yes, she would say something like that and the thing was, she was right. Never mind, it was better than remaining here, doing nothing but being in the way of people who actually knew what to do with their lives.  
The ground was slippery, he was already soaked through but why not.

Pod was still waiting for his answer, so he nodded at the young man. „

In that case, it wouldn‘t do to disappoint her, would it?“

Why was it he couldn‘t shake the feeling he was about to disappoint her anyway?

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter we'll see Brienne's POV. You can consider this chapter, as well as the first one as a kind of a prologue to the story that will follow. I think things will become clearer with the third chapter.
> 
> I should add that I'm usually not that quick with writing, but I found myself with some time to myself this morning. So I hope to be able to start with the next chapter soon but with work, life and everything else, it might take a few days to update .
> 
> And before I forget it... all of my stories (if not marked with 'main character death') have a happy ending and this one will, too.
> 
> Last but not least, I'm looking for a beta for this story. I made my way alone into this fandom, so my usual beta can't really help me. I'd promise my undying gratitude in return and maybe a one-shot (in case of interest).
> 
> *********************************************************************************************************************

Closing the door of her small chambers behind her, she leaned against the wooden structure with her back, her eyelids falling shut. 

Just a moment, she needed just a moment.

She willed her racing heart to calm down, while she tried to make sense of what had just happened.

It had only been a look, hadn't it? One of many she had shared with Jaime Lannister over the course of the years. From distrust and almost hate to friendship, their relationship gradually adapting as their view of each other did. Nowadays, and maybe for longer than she dared admit ,it was deep friendship... and something else, something more, fragile and easily ignored as life demanded their all while they fought for their lives, the lives of the people.  
She shouldn‘t even think of this now, of this look, of its implications. Hadn't life taught her the same lesson again and again early on in life. Such fragile, such beautiful feelings were not for her, never for Brienne The Beauty. 

Tears prickled behind her closed eyelids but they wouldn't fall. She wouldn‘t let them. There'd always be hurt connected to these memories and yet, she had learned to shut out these feelings before they became too much. They all had their own burdens to bear and this was hers.

Her hands closed into fists, her blunt fingernails causing only a slight sting when they burrowed into the skin of the palm of her hand. Big hands, a man‘s hands.

What, when she had learned to deal and ignore most men, was it about Ser Jaime that reduced her to bundle of nerves and anxiety so easily. The way Ser Jaime had just looked at her a few moments ago defied any definition and yet, it did not.

He had been happy to see her, without a doubt, and when he had smiled she couldn't help but smile back. Though then... she took another ragged breath while her blood raced through her body, leaving her hot to the touch and cold with fear inside.

Though then the look had changed, and it was suddenly surprise being chased away by shock, only to settle into something so intense she had thought it was melting the armour she wore around her heart.  
He had looked at her as if she mattered, as if he was truly seeing her for the first time, or maybe as if he knew for the first time what to with whatever was between them.

It was a look of... No, she wouldn't name it. 

She opened her eyes, shook her head at her herself.

He might think he knew how to deal with... this now, but she didn't. 

She didn't even know who she was.

She was Brienne of Tarth, the Maid of Tarth, a woman living the life of a knight instead of a married heiress. Abandoning what was considered her duty and her father, she had gone and sworn oathes to serve and protect those, she deemed worthy, those who had seen behind the mask of a woman too big, too ungainly, or as some said too ugly to be a real woman. 

Now with peace ruling over the lands once more, although for how long nobody was able to say, she wasn't needed. Lady Sansa had more than enough people to protect her. Only yesterday the young woman had thanked her for her services, told her she was free to go home if she so desired.

Home... 

Tarth was in her heart, would always be, and, yet, she wasn't the same woman that had left the island. If she hadn't fit the island before, how could she possibly fit there now.

So what was she to do? Stay here? Leave?

_What about Ser Jaime?_

She wasn't tied to him and still...

Biting down her bottom lip so hard it hurt, she thought of this look again, began to pace the small quarters, three steps in each direction. She wasn't a coward, never had been.  
Wasn't her honesty one of the traits people had praised her for, one of the very few. 

The truth was Ser Jaime had looked at her as if he wanted her, as if he could love her.

" _Love_ ," she whispered, the sound ringing wrong, bitter in the otherwise silent room.

No man would ever truly love a woman like her and even if she knew that part of her would always love Ser Jaime, she didn't think he could ever be whole again. 

It wasn't the hand that was missing but the duality of his life that would always haunt him.

This man had loved his sister in a way no man should, had sired three children with her that were born only to live for way too short a time. He had done deeds in the name of this love that defied any rational explanation, things that were reason enough to take his head over and over.

He had wronged the Starks in so many ways, it was a wonder the remaining children had let him live, allowed him to fight at their side. 

Oh, she saw the other side of him, the man who could be loyal, the man who was capable of good deeds, of doing the right thing. He had given a hand to keep her unharmed, had saved her from certain death in the bear pit. He had given her his sword, his trust and in the bottom in her heart she knew she trusted nobody more than she would ever trust him.

Could he ever trust himself, though.

When it had mattered the most, he had left his sister behind, had made good on a promise his sister had broken all too readily. They had fought side by side and for a while it was a nightime ritual to pray to whatever gods would listen to her to spare this man.

She growled out, willing her mind to finally quiet down. By the gods, her thoughts were scattered all over the place, her feelings bitter on her tongue and all of this because of a single look. 

It just had been never the time to define the twisted relationship between the Kingslayer and the Maid of Tarth, although some called her the Kingslayer's Whore as she was well aware.

She wasn't ready to define the relationship now, maybe never would be.

Tonight at the feast, she‘d see Jaime again. For now he would be busy sparring with Pod, but tonight she‘d not be able to avoid him. She could only guess what would happen then. Would he try to corner her to discuss...it , or would he have done some thinking of his own and decided to leave things as they were. 

_Wouldn‘t the one thing scare her while the other thing would left her disappointed?_

Stopping in her tracks, she allowed herself a single moment to wonder what would happen if they both decided to pursue a different kind of relationship. 

_How would it feel to be held by Ser Jaime, to gaze into his eyes without hiding her deeper feelings for him, how it would be if somebody touched her body with affection and genuine want?_

No. _NO._ These thoughts were too cruel. 

Hadn‘t her septa told her early on that she wasn‘t what men were looking for in a woman and that the best she could hope for was a man who would be kind to her.

Nobody would protect her, protect her feelings but herself. 

She knew what she had to do and although the thought scared her, she willed herself to sit down at her small desk, quickly writing a letter that she would make sure would be delivered first thing tomorrow morning.  
Now she had to find Lady Sansa and talk to her. She was sure her ladyship would be understanding, and if nothing else, she thought she deserved that much consideration for her efforts.

Life wasn‘t about what she deserved, but for once she would insist.There was a time for fear, but this was not it. In the end things would work out as they should, in that she believed.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thanks the wonderful Zibiah who took the time to beta this chapter. Her comments and corrections were more than helpful and they made me think hard about what I wrote and how I wrote it. That's a wonderful thing, really! THANK YOU, dear! All remaining mistakes are mine. 
> 
> Thanks to some very bad news that turned my life upside down, I'm not sure when the next chapter will be up. This chapter was written..., well, before... Anyway, sooner or later the muse will be back and so will be this story. So maybe you don't even want to read this chapter right now??? I'm really sorry about this.

Pod had come close to beating him today, the young man’s constant training with Brienne paying off. He knew the boy had taken some shit for being a squire to a woman, but most squires would be lucky to have someone so dedicated to making sure they were trained well. 

Making his way inside the castle, the sweat cooling on his skin, he desperately wished for a bath. Seeing the place was full to overflowing inside and outside with people who had fought against the White Walkers, all he could hope for was a quick wash. Nobody had the time or the inclination to make sure the Kingslayer got a bath. He was thankful they had given him a room, small as it was, in the first place.

These walls might hold some respect but definitely no love for this Lannister, and still, they had treated him better than his sister and, for most of his life, he would’ve treated them. 

Inside his chamber, he shrugged out of his tunic, still somewhat struggling with this task after years of fending for himself with only one hand and poured some water into the small wood basin, cleaning himself as well as possible under the circumstances. He’d have loved to wash his hair as well, but there wasn’t enough water and it would’ve taken him way too long. 

The feast was set to begin at sunset and a quick gaze outside showed him that it wouldn’t be long now. Today time couldn’t pass fast enough. He longed to set his eyes on Brienne again, to take her somewhere private so they could talk. If only he could trust himself to find the right words to deal with a skittish woman. Well, talk to her he would, but he knew he had to talk to his brother first.

They may have been fighting on the same side for the last months, and yet, so many things had been left unsaid. In truth, he wasn’t sure if there even were words to bridge the distance between them. Nothing he could possibly say could undo a single thing said nor done in the past and yet, he wanted to try. 

They were both alive, the only members left of their family; that had to count for something.

Tyrion might be linked to the Dragon Queen now, but he was still family. Staring into the distance he wondered how deeply Tyrion‘s feelings for Daenerys truly ran or what his endgame had to do with romantic feelings for the young queen.

Well, it was none of his business and whatever his brother might be feeling, he knew nothing could come from it. He hoped his brother knew that as well. Not that the heart ever listened to reason, a lesson he himself had learnt time and again. 

Once he was dressed in his best pair of breeches and his best shirt, which both had seen better times if he was honest, he considered shaving the awful beard he’d been too tired to take care of the last weeks, but in the end decided against it. Nobody would care if he would have bothered to shave or not. All it would do for him now was to kill enough time so he could pretend to himself it had been too late to talk to his brother before the feast.

A part of him liked the idea entirely too much. _No, he wouldn’t act like a coward_. 

He put on his gold hand, knowing it would put off people less than his stump would, and he left his chamber.

Passing a stream of people on his way to his brother`s chambers, he was almost amused by the way these strangers looked at him, most of them with narrowed eyes, distrust written plainly on their faces, however while a few others just nodded, two of them giving him as much as an actual small smile.

The door to Tyrion‘s chamber, much bigger than his, opened when he had almost reached it, his brother looking up at him in clear surprise.

“Now look what the cat dragged in.“

“It‘s nice to see you, too, little brother.”

“I don’t know about nice, but now that you’re here anyway, what can I do for you?”

“Nothing. I just wanted to talk to you.”

Tyrion looked at him for a few seconds as if trying to find the hidden meaning behind his words, only there wasn’t one. Finally, his brother gave an almost imperceptible shrug and gestured towards his chamber.

“Come on in then. I’m sure people would love to see us sparring verbally, but it wouldn’t do to ruin this merry night for others.”

“As if a night of mindless eating, dancing, drinking and fucking will fill any hungry belly outside these walls or will help to repair the Wall.”

He had no idea where the sudden bitterness had come from. Maybe he was getting old, had seen too much of the way of people and the world to believe in any kind of true happy ending. 

His brother raised an eyebrow at his comment, then closed the door behind them.

“While you speak the truth, such bitter sarcasm doesn’t quite become you. It’s more like...”

“You? Yes, it is. And I actually didn’t come to see you to mourn the state of the world.”

“Then why did you come?”

Tyrion passed him and sat on a low stool beside the small desk that was crammed into a corner of the room. Still, that his brother had been gifted the rooms showed that he was trusted, almost liked around here. Thanks to his connection to Daenerys and hers to Jon Snow, as well as his brief marriage to Sansa Stark he wasn’t such an anathema as Jaime. 

Strangely enough Jaime wasn’t the least bit envious. They had both suffered enough for a few lifetimes, especially Tyrion. His younger brother had grown up being considered an abomination for the very start. Unlike him, Tyrion hadn’t had a twin like he had, somebody to keep him sane and rooted under the loveless roof of their childhood. Instead, Tyrion had been met with disdain, with the ridiculous accusation of being the reason their mother was dead.

But, it was all a long time in the past) now; they both had made their own beds, had to lie in them now. 

He knew he’d been quiet for too long, and leaning against the wall, he met his brother’s gaze. 

“I… I guess I only wanted to ask when you’re going to leave, where you’re going to go.”

It didn’t use to be this awkward between them. It had been different when Robert Baratheon was still king, before Eddard Stark had become Hand of the King and Daenerys Targaryen had been married to a Dothraki setting events in motion that should change life for all of them.

“Why, do you want to come along with me?” Tyrion sneered.

“No.”

The idea had never entered his mind; it wasn’t something that could work out for several reasons.

“So why the sudden interest?”

So that was what happened when people who used to know each other like the back of their hands became strangers, when there were only questions without real answers left. Jaime wouldn’t call that feeling between them distrust. No, it wasn’t that. It was simply that life had led them down roads so vastly different that it had changed both of them more than words could possibly convey. Maybe there was a chance they could be more than brothers again, but it would take time they didn’t have.

“Because I care,” he said and for a moment he felt the fingers of his right hand clenching along with the ones of his left. He sucked in a breath.

These moments of feeling whole still left him unsettled, the shock of reality always followed by the bitter realisation that nothing he could do would ever make him whole again.

“So you care because while Lannisters may be self-centred assholes, they will always care about other Lannisters? In that special, oh so loving way? ”

He wasn’t surprised by Tyrion’s reaction.

“How about I care about you as a person and give a fuck about the fact that you’re a Lannister? With only the two of us left it might be time for new traditions, don’t you think?”

Tyrion opened his mouth but closed it again, studying him once more.

“Well, maybe you’re right. And maybe this beautiful head on top of your shoulders isn’t all that useless after all.”

Tyrion turned his back to him, walked over to the window of his chamber, looking outside at a world that had turned dark within the last few minutes.

“The plan is to travel to King’s Landing, to help Queen Daenerys settle.”

He was glad that Tyrion couldn’t see his face right now, because he wasn’t sure what it might be giving away. 

For him, having seen kings and queen on the Iron Throne, it would always be connected to Cersei. Conquering the throne had given her the ultimate power while it marked the beginning of her end, the threads of her life unravelling, until she was left facing death alone.

He refrained from clearing his throat even though the acid of his bitter thoughts burned his throat.

“You could go to Casterly Rock,” he said.

Stripping Jaime of almost everything, Queen Daenerys had rewarded Tyrion with the titles, the lands. It seemed just, or maybe he couldn’t bring himself to care. 

“I will. Eventually.”

There was no infliction in Tyrion’s voice, and Jaime could only guess at his feelings. 

Could it truly be that Tyrion’s feelings for the young queen made him do her bidding for a while longer? To Jaime there had never been the slightest indication that the queen would ever give Tyrion more than her trust and friendship. 

_Would Brienne ever consider giving him more than trust and friendship? No, he couldn’t let his thoughts go there, not yet_. 

He focused on Tyrion once more. So was it love, or something else making him follow Daenerys? Was it out of some sense of loyalty?

_Fuck loyalty._

These words spoken by the most loyal of creatures he knew had changed Jaime's life and strangely enough with doing as she’d said, he’d become more loyal than he’d ever been before. Loyal to the common cause, loyal to her, always loyal to her. 

“What are you going to do?” Tyrion asked him when the silence between them began feeling uncomfortable. Tyrion turned his back to the window, his face as unreadable as ever, waiting for his reply.

“I…,” he took a deep breath, shrugged. “I’m not sure.”

It would depend on how his conversation with Brienne would go. He almost laughed out loud. It seemed there was a way in which he hadn’t changed, and it was in tying his decisions to those of the women he… loved. 

“You could come with me, you know. I’m sure given some time, the Queen could…,” Tyrion said hesitantly.

“No. I… won’t leave for now. And when I do… I… I just don’t know yet.”

Tyrion stepped closer, put his right hand onto Jaime’s left arm. 

“Don’t wait too long to find out what you want. The wheel might be damaged, but it has never stopped spinning, and if you don’t best life, it will best you.”

“I know. Believe me, I know.” He straightened. “Well, I guess all that is left now is to wish you safe travels, and hope to hear from you before long.”

Tyrion regarded him for a long moment, then squeezed his arm before stepping back.

“You shall.”

There was nothing else left to say, so he nodded at his brother once before leaving the room. 

There was still some time left and so he took another stroll through the castle with no destination in mind.

It was his feet that had different ideas, though, and he soon realised he was making his way to Brienne’s chamber. 

Even being surrounded by noises of the beginning feast, he thought he heard somebody moving inside Brienne’s rooms. He raised his hand, was about to knock when he stopped his fist just before it made contact with the wooden door, lowering it slowly instead.

She was surely in the process of getting dressed and he’d see her in a short while anyway. A craven excuse and yet… if it was true, she wouldn’t want him inside, surely.

 _What if she needed help getting dressed?_

He was almost annoyed by himself. Sure, she’d appreciate him barging in right then, and what did he expect anyway, that he told her about his feelings for her and she’d sink into his arms? Surely not. Not given their histories, and not given the fact she had never had a suitor having her best interests in mind before. 

He still didn’t have the faintest idea how to broach the subject anyway, how he could make her see his intentions were honest. Maybe a cup of wine would help with that, be enough to loosen his tongue, though not so much he’d embarrass himself or her. 

Turning around, he retraced his steps and ran into Bronn who started to ramble about one thing and the other upon seeing him. He even meant to listen, only Bronn didn’t seem to mind he didn’t, and this was enough of a distraction to keep him from making a fool of himself just yet.

The two men slowly made their way into the main hall that was almost full to bursting by now. At a table in the back were the King of the North, the Dragon Queen and the Lady of Winterfell along with their advisors, and people were vying for the chance to exchange a few words with them.

Well, he wasn’t planning on joining those hopefuls trying to gain a favour here and there. Not only was there nothing he had to say to Sansa Stark, John Snow and Daenerys Targaryen, but also he didn’t think they’d like to be reminded of his presence. To keep a low profile would suit everybody best.

Bronn soon left his side, saying something about wanting to talk to someone about something. _Damn, he really should learn to listen._

Getting himself the cup of wine he’d been craving, he found a quiet corner that gave him the chance to observe the comings and goings. Soon the Wench should appear, and trying to ease his nerves, he entertained himself with wondering what she would have chosen to wear. Certainly not her armour, not for such an occasion. So a dress or pants with a lose tunic. Surely the latter. Seven hells, there weren’t many dresses that would fit her, and nobody would have had the time to make her one. Never mind, he knew she wasn’t fond of wearing them in the first place.

He thought about the pink abomination they had forced onto her at Harrenhal but it led to memories of the bear pit and the way they had parted after all had been said and done.

_What would have happened if..._

Letting his eyes stray for a moment, he watched Jon Snow – or should he say Aegon Targaryen - and the Dragon Queen. She had a hand on his shoulder, smiling, as was he, but their eyes told quite a different story. There never had been any open confirmation, but he’d heard it whispered more than once that these two had become intimate before learning they were family.

Loving the ones you were related to could never end well. Who knew it better than he himself? That Jon Snow and he would ever have anything in common, who would’ve thought. Well, Westeros could be thankful that two broken hearts had been the only price paid. 

_What if Snow had decided he had wanted the Iron Throne for himself?_

They would never know. With each passing minute Jaime felt himself getting more anxious. Where was Brienne? She wasn’t one to be late to anything, not unlike most women he knew. 

“Got ants in your pants?” 

Bronn appeared beside him, looking amused. 

“Waiting for something or… someone?”

Directing a glare at Bronn, the other man remained unperturbed by Jaime’s look and uneasiness, scanning the crowd instead. Following Bronn’s gaze, Jaime had to smile when he looked at Pod who was talking to a young maid, the both of them looking as if the world around them didn’t exist.

To be young again, to feel carefree… Although, had he ever been that way? It wasn’t likely.

“You never answered me, you know.”

“Answered what?”

Bronn rolled his eyes at him. “Don’t play this fucking game with me.” He became serious. “Rumour has it she’s not going to come, but you should really talk to Lady Sansa.”

A part of him wanted to deny he knew what Bronn was talking about, another part of him knew this was not the time to play coy and that the other man meant well.

“What do you know? Tell me.”

He had gripped Bronn’s arm with his left hand, but the other man just stepped back, brushing his hand off.

“Talk to Lady Sansa.”

His thoughts whirling, he turned around, scanning the crowd for the young lady of Winterfell. She was with Tyrion, and he crossed the room without bothering whom he ran into, the curses of those he bumped into falling on deaf ears.

“Where is she?” he asked as soon as he had reached the two of them.

“Pardon me?”

Sansa Stark had the poise and grace of a woman much older than her years, but was it a wonder? She had to have a spine of steel to survive what she had lived through. Realising insulting the woman who had made sure he had a roof over his head these last months would get him nowhere, Jaime took a step back and took a deep breath before talking next.

“I apologize, Lady Sansa. I was wondering if you could tell me where I can find Lady Brienne.”

A knowing look, a look of almost pity crossed the young woman’s features before her face settled into a neutral expression.

“I’m not sure how this could possibly concern you, but Lady Brienne came to me earlier and asked to be relieved of her duties. Immediately. She seemed to be in a hurry and left the castle about an hour ago.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before I pester you all with fic, allow me to ramble a little. Sorry. :)
> 
> First of all, I'm sorry that it took me so long to post another chapter. Life still has me in a choke-hold, and while I manage some writing on the good days, there aren't too many of those lately. So, this fic is far from being dead, but I can't dedicate as much time to it as I'd love to.
> 
> Second, thank you so much to all of you who left kudos and/or comments. You have no idea how much this means to mean. Really! Way too often I read a fic without leaving kudos, without commenting myself, so, please, believe me, when I try to tell you how grateful I am. 
> 
> Third and last (but not least). I uploaded the betaed chapter now. The wonderful, amazing Zibiah did one hell of a job to wade through my numerous mistakes. I nominate her for sainthood. Thank you, dear! That said, I'm still clumsy and sometimes blind, so blame all of the remaining mistakes on me, please.

"Brienne left? Why?"

Jaime spoke loudly, and several heads turned into their direction. Sansa Stark’s lips thinned, and he thought he had gone too far, though then the young woman gave him a small smile.  
He hated it, hated her for a second. Taking a breath, he willed himself to let go of the feeling. This was not the Stark girl’s fault. Fleetingly, he wondered what Brienne would think if she were here right now. Would she find it ironic that it seemed he wore his heart on his sleeve when it came to her or would she be embarrassed on his behalf? Definitely the latter.

Meeting Lady Sansa’s gaze, he realized he was an open book for the young woman, at least in this regard. Had they all known about his feelings before he ever got an inkling? Well, nobody had ever accused him of being the smart Lannister.

His gaze met his brother’s and Jaime could see the thoughts whirling in Tyrion's mind, connecting dots, seeing the bigger picture. Jaime wouldn’t be surprised if his brother understood the situation better than even he himself did.

"I can't tell you why," Sansa finally spoke.

Couldn't she? Or didn't she want to?

"Lady Sansa, I would be really indebted to you if you could tell me where Lady Brienne went," he tried again.

"No, I can't tell you.” She kept his gaze, paused before she spoke again. “I’m sorry."

Again anger flared up inside Jaime a hot flame, distinguishing all sense or reason. He didn't know what he'd have said or done next, if it Tyrion hadn't put his hand on his arm. He couldn’t rationally explain it, but to him, it seemed there was something the young Stark wasn’t saying. The woman in question opened her mouth, as if she wanted to say something else, but Tyrion spoke before she could.

"This is not Lady Sansa's fault, Jamie,” his brother echoed Jaime’s earlier thought.

He turned to Tyrion.

"Did you know anything about this?"

Tyrion shook his head no. "I didn’t. Although it’s rather obvious, wouldn't you say?"

"Obvious? Well, please enlighten me then."

He had spoken too loud once again, and this time Bronn appeared at his side. Taking a quick look around, Jaime could see Jon and Daenerys making their way over to them as well. _Perfect._

"What's the fucking matter?" Bronn asked, looking from one brother to the other.

"Nothing," Tyrion answered instead of Jamie. "My brother and I wanted to go and get some fresh air."

It was the last thing Jaime wanted to do, but for once he kept his mouth shut. It wouldn't do to forget he was in a room full of people who had given him a second chance although they'd rather have seen him dead. It wouldn't do to forget that Brienne had vouched for him, had been there for him like a silent shadow whenever he was at risk of his mouth sending him to an early grave.

Going against his every instinct telling him to either force Lady Sansa to tell him the truth or to leave right now and find Brienne, he inclined his head.

"I'm sorry to have disturbed you," he said to Lady Sansa.

"My lady, if you will please excuse us," Tyrion added, steering him away.

"Wait," Lady Sansa called out before they were out of earshot.

Jaime turned, meeting the young woman's gaze again. She was flanked by Jon and Daenerys now, and without knowing why, he was sure these two knew what this was about as well.

"Lady Brienne asked me to tell you that she left a letter for you in her rooms."

_A letter?_

"Thank you," he said, turning again.

"And she asked me to tell you to read it carefully before you did anything rash."

Jaime took in a sharp breath, full of anger and denial that deflated as quickly as it had come when unbidden the picture of Brienne’s disapproving face entered his mind.

"I… understand. Thank you, Lady Sansa."

He left quickly now before the young woman could stop him again, flanked by Bronn and Tyrion, his brother almost running to keep up with him. The three of them remained silent until they were out of the hall, and although even here people were still passing them, Jaime stopped, looking down at his brother.

"You can find out if she didn’t tell us the whole truth, can’t you? You can go and talk to the Stark girl. She would talk to you."

Although Tyrion's and Sansa's marriage had been annulled and there hadn't been any actual love between them, their relationship seemed grounded in respect and friendship. If she'd tell anybody close to Jaime, it would be Tyrion.

“I will not. Even if Lady Sansa knew something concrete, which I actually doubt, I wouldn't make her break the trust Lady Brienne placed in her. Shouldn't you, of all people, respect Lady Brienne's wishes?"

“She's no Lady."

He had no idea why he said it. It wasn’t true. She was a lady, even though she chose not to live that way. She had more nobility in a single bone than most of these highborn ladies would ever possess.

By the Gods, it didn't matter, did it?

What mattered was that Brienne had made the choice to leave, and no matter what he might think about it, she had the right to make up her own mind. Tyrion was right, he should honour her wishes first and foremost.

"I need to read this letter," he finally said, and when he walked on, Tyrion and Bronn followed him once more. He stopped, looking at his companions.

"I'd like for you to leave me alone."

Bronn snorted. "So you can turn 'round next second, find the next fucking horse and dash after her even though you've got no bloody, fucking idea where she went? Not likely."

Before Jaime could speak out, Tyrion did.

"He won't."

Jaime was surprised about the surety of his brother's voice.

"Thank you," Jaime said.

"What for? I still think you're an idiot, I simply doubt you're that much of one to make a complete fool out of yourself. Come and find me tomorrow after you have read the letter."

Jaime wanted to protest. Yes, he would read the letter, but depending on its contents, Bronn might be right after all, and he'd pack his few belongings and leave as quickly as possible.

"Don't even think about it,” Tyrion said.

"I..."

"You want to do this right, don't you?"

Jaime almost laughed out. In contrast to Tyrion, he didn't even know what 'this' really was.

"I... think so."

"Trust me, you do. Read this letter, think about it and we'll talk about what is to be done tomorrow morning. Just not too early." Tyrion smirked. "The night's still young, and I for one plan to get the utmost out of this feast."

_So he wants to bed a woman, or maybe more than one, and get drunk._

Would Tyrion ever settle and put his demons to rest? Would anyone who had lived through this grizzly war?

“All right. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Without sparing Bronn and Tyrion another glance, he made his way to Brienne’s chamber, hardly noticing the people he passed. Each step hurt, if not physically but emotionally, as it meant Brienne was getting further and further away. He was letting the one good thing in his life slip through his fingers.

No, he wasn’t. He actually, fucking wasn’t. Brienne had pulled herself free from the bond they’d formed, and for what reason, he could only guess. Instead of going after her, as he should, he was staying here, so it was at least partly his fault, wasn’t it?

_Oh, all these thoughts were useless until he had read Brienne’s letter, knew all the facts._

Stopping in front of Brienne’s chamber, he almost knocked, then chided himself for the miniscule hope they could all be wrong, and Brienne would be waiting for him on the other side of the door in front of him.  
The room was dark, and it took his eyes a moment to focus so he could light a candle and properly look around. The room was barren and there was nothing left of Brienne’s meager belongings.

By the Gods, why hadn’t he knocked a few hours ago? She might have not left then. Or she still would have, who knew? Not him, that was for sure.

Damned, it had been the right thing to talk to Tyrion, the right thing to grant Brienne the privacy she had obviously craved. He might not like the consequences, but he’d do it the same way all over again, given the chance. He ran a hand over his face, and for a moment he couldn’t move, couldn’t think, couldn’t even feel.

Seconds or minutes ticked by and finally, he looked towards the small desk with the letter right on top of it that was supposed to make sense out of this all.

He hardly registered his hands were shaking when he reached for it, cracking the seal before stepping closer to the candle so he could decipher Brienne’s neat handwriting.

“Ser Jaime,

I hope you will forgive me that I felt I had to leave Winterfell without prior notice and at such a haste.

I came to the realization that my place cannot be here. My duty to the Starks is done, and it is time to face my future to the best of my abilities.

Our paths have been entwined for too many moons to count, but I am of the belief it is time for them to diverge. We must be our own people now.

I ask you to never forget that you have more to give to this new world than you might think, and although nobody can ever be free from the burdens of the past, I know you will find your way and be the honourable man I know you  
to be. Please know that I will always consider you my friend.

I know it is very forward, but I have a favour to ask of you. Where I go, I cannot take Pod with me, and although he learned so much, I know he can still do better, there are still things he needs to learn before he can be a knight in his own right. Would you agree to take him with you? Could you tell him that I am sorry for abandoning him, and that I thank him for everything he has done for me?

Now it is time to finish this letter and leave Winterfell behind.

Thank you for being my friend, for the countless times you have saved my life and for making me believe in myself.

Brienne of Tarth

He read the letter twice, was about to lay it down on the desk before reading it yet another time. Finally, sitting down on the room’s single chair, he had to withstand the impulse to crush the letter in his fist, or to hold it to the candle so it would burn.

This woman… This irritating, stubborn, downright mulish woman. If she were here right now, he wasn’t sure if he’d challenge her to a sword fight or… or what, he didn’t know. 

For somebody so taciturn, she knew how to say nothing with a lot of pretty words. She was right in some regards, of course. It _was_ time to face their future. They _were_ friends. Only they were more than that. Their path should be the same. Did she really think they were better apart than they were together?

He laughed out loud, the sound ringing hollow and bitter in the empty chamber, clashing against the sound of laughter and song far away in the main hall.

Well, it was really no surprise that Brienne didn’t want to be with an old cripple like him.

He didn’t have to offer her much, nothing a sane woman would ever desire for herself, but did she think there would be better offers? And even if she met a kind man who appreciated her for who she was, who loved her, would this man be able to love her like he did? Could she love this man the way she loved him? Their love was more than simple desire, it had been forged in battle and in anguish. They had been through the worst together and had found the best in each other. By the Gods, they’d been branded, had left their stamps on the other. Cersei had left her stamp on him, too, but Cersei was the past and Brienne should be his future.

Another laugh, this one quieter.

Leave it to him to realize what was in his heart a second too late and to scare off the woman he loved with the intensity of his epiphany in the process. It seemed he hadn’t learned much from his past mistakes, because when it came to love he was still not doing anything by halves.

To scare away a woman without speaking a word…yes, leave it to him.

He sat like this for a long time, lost in thoughts. To stay or to leave directly? To let Brienne be or follow his heart in hopes of making her his?

What were the right choices? Tyrion would know what to do, wouldn’t he? But his brother was busy drinking and whoring his own sorrows away, and at the end of the day, his brother might know much, but Tyrion didn’t know Brienne the way he did. Jaime’s head hurt, but somehow his heart clenched even more painfully.

Defying impulse, he decided to wait and talk to Tyrion. Charging after a dragon on impulse had almost gotten him killed, and he doubted that charging after a woman who was running from him would be any smarter. . He would trust his brother’s instincts and postpone any decision to tomorrow. 

There’d be Pod to think about as there was no way he’d refuse Brienne’s request to take care of the young squire and he was sure whatever he’d decide to do, Bronn would want to tag along, at least for a while. That man belonged to Winterfell as little as he did.

When Jaime got up, he was at a loss as to what to do. Should he rejoin the feast, should he retire to his chambers, or…

He yawned, and even though his thoughts were still racing, his body was worn out. Not just from today but from months with too much fighting, too little food or sleep. He should leave for his chambers and yet… he couldn’t bring himself to move. His gaze fell to the small bed covered with furs. These weren’t his chambers. It weren’t Brienne’s any longer either, though nobody apart of a few people knew about it.

By the Seven, he was a bloody, sentimental fool.

Shrugging out of his jacket, he put it over the chair, along with his breeches. He blew out the candle, and before he could come to his senses, he slipped underneath the furs, wondering how Brienne had coped with a bed that had clearly been too short for her. It was too short for him, that much was sure. He twisted and turned until he came to rest on his side, his knees slightly drawn up.

It didn’t take long to feel warm, almost cozy, and for a moment, he thought he could still catch Brienne’s scent.

Yes, he was fool, there was no way to deny it.

It was with this thought that he fell into a fitful sleep.

***

Jaime woke up when the sun crept slowly over the horizon. The first tentative rays were falling into the room, bearing no warmth, yet a beautiful day lay ahead for the people that had seen none for too long. For a moment he wondered where he was, but then it came all rushing back to him, and he sat up with a start, rubbing gritty eyes.

_Dammit, Brienne. Why did you have to leave me?_

He sighed. Such thoughts were fruitless.

Jaime dressed quickly deciding to head for his own chamber for a wash and a change of clothes. Afterwards, he’d find himself something to eat to quiet his rumbling stomach and wait for Tyrion to make an appearance.

To his surprise, he found his brother already present in the main hall, looking tired and worn. Sitting down opposite of him, reaching for some bread and a cup of ale, Jaime waited until Tyrion acknowledged his presence with a quick look before addressing him.

“I won’t ask why you look like the seven hells but why are you already up?”

Tyrion hardly glanced at him.

“The queen needed me.”

His brother’s voice was rough from lack of sleep and too much drink.

Jaime bit back a laugh. A woman… of course. Once a Lannister decided to follow a woman they’d do anything for her, wouldn’t they? Although Tyrion could have hardly refused a call of the Queen.

Reaching for a piece of bread himself, Tyrion looked up at him.

“So I see you heeded my advice for once. Consider me impressed.”

Several sharp retorts flickered through Jamie’s mind, but he let them die unvoiced.

“You said you had an idea what is to be done?” he said instead.

“So you don’t feel like exchanging pleasantries either. Good.” Tyrion gave him a small smile. “Well, am I correct in the assumption that you’re in love with Brienne of Tarth and will follow her no matter what I have to say about this?”

Jaime wanted to bristle at Tyrion for carelessly voicing the truth of his heart. He looked around, couldn’t help himself, to see if anybody had overheard them.

With a shuddering breath, he ran his hand over his face. They weren’t talking about Cersei. His love for Brienne wasn’t forbidden and while it was his matter and nobody else’s, it didn’t mean there was something wrong about his feelings. Well, old habits die hard, especially those drilled into you from a young age on.

He realized he owed Tyrion an answer and, tired of playing games, he just gave the plain truth.

“Yes.”

Tyrion was right. His brother could give him any advice he wanted, but Jaime would go to find Brienne anyway. He had to.

He shouldn’t place the burden of his happiness on another person. For way too long his emotional well-being had depended on Cersei’s happiness. This couldn’t happen again. It was his responsibility to find his own way in this new life, but without Brienne, he was lost.

“Well, then let me just tell you to plan your exit carefully. Think about what to take, and make sure you’ve got enough coin for your travels. And for the love of the Seven, think where you want to go. You can’t just chase after her blindly.”

When Jaime started to speak, Tyrion held up a hand.

“Yes, Brienne has a distinct look about her, but believe me, a woman who doesn’t want to be found, won’t be found that easily.”

“You think she hates me that much?”

Tyrion snorted, shook his head as if being faced with a petulant child.

“You’re an idiot. No. I think she loves you so much she’s scared shitless. She’ll do anything to avoid you.”

Tyrion’s words stung, but he had wanted the truth, hadn’t he?

“I know I’m too old, too crippled, too poor, you name it. I know about my past and that I’m no catch.”

Tyrion’s eyes widened, then he raised his hand as if to slap him, only to let it sink to the table again.

“I never knew you to be so dim-witted.”

Jaime opened his mouth, and all his fear seemed to compile into a burst of anger he wanted to unleash on his brother. Tyrion spoke again before he could, though.

“It’s not you that’s her problem. It’s herself. Although she’s not as ugly as stories make her out to be, she’s not a beauty. Brienne of Tarth thinks she’s not worthy of you, although she should bloody well know better. She’s afraid that even if you declared her love for her and meant it, that you would come to your senses soon and leave her utterly broken.”  
His anger dissipated into thin air, and although everything inside him wanted to deny the truth in his brother’s statement, he couldn’t. Jaime knew Brienne, and he suddenly understood that when Brienne had realized he’d made up his mind, she’d gone into panic mode with all her insecurities and fears coming to the forefront.

_Pure, noble, stupid Brienne._

“Oh gods,” he said, leaning back in his chair.

“Now, don’t be so dramatic,” Tyrion drawled. “You’re an idiot, she’s an idiot, and while she is way too good for your sorry ass, she seems to love you. Now, you’ll just have to find her and convince her that you might be no catch, but that she should still take you on, if only to take mercy on all of us who can’t stand to see you moping.”

In spite of everything, a small smile tugged Jaime’s lips upwards.

“You’re a nasty little man.”

His brother lifted his cup, toasted him.

“To the idiot and the nasty little man.”

Lifting his own cup, he toasted Tyrion back, and they finished their breakfast in silence.

When Tyrion sighed and got up, Jaime stopped him with his hand on Tyrion’s arm.

“Thank you.”

Tyrion shook his head.

“Forget it. You’ll make it up to me.”

“I will?”

Tyrion raised an eyebrow. “Of course. A Lannister always pays his debts… So what will you do now?”

“I’ll speak to Pod and Bronn, then I’ll send a raven to Tarth. I know it’ll be some time until she will have made it that far but I want them to alert me when she does, for them to send a raven back to the nearest port where I’ll be waiting for it.”

He hadn’t thought that far ahead, really, but voicing the words they sounded right. Tarth was home for Brienne, and knowing how much she loved her father it was his best guess. Brienne wouldn’t want to be faced with the possibility of yet another humiliating betrothal, and yet…a part of her had always thought she’d failed her father when she left Tarth. Now that no more battles were left to fight, she’d think it was time to go back to what she perceived as her daughterly duties.

He was surprised when Tyrion shook his head.

“Don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t send a raven to Tarth. It’s a stupid idea for several reasons.”

He lifted a finger. “First of all, Selwyn of Tarth has no idea that his daughter has left here without anybody having the faintest idea where she might have gone. Learning about this will only make him worry, and learning it from the ‘Kingslayer’ won’t endear you to him as he’ll assume you’re at least partly to blame. Which you are. ”

Tyrion paused to see if he understood, and Jaime nodded, albeit reluctantly.

A second finger went up. “Then you’ll be only a day behind Brienne. If you’re right about this, you’ll cause a minor uproar for nothing. With a bit of luck you’ll stumble over the damsel that didn’t know true distress until she met you all on your own.”

A third finger followed the first two. “Last but not least, if Brienne makes it to Tarth and she hears about your raven but really doesn’t want to see you, well, there won’t be a raven coming for you, don’t you agree?”

He curled his fingers into a fist before letting his hand sink.

Jaime’s shoulders slumped a bit, though then his resolve kicked in. He’d fought many dangerous battles, had stared death right into its eye more than once, he’d been beaten and abused but never… never had he given up. Only once and only almost. Brienne had saved him, and it wasn’t for nothing. No, Jaime wouldn’t give up now.

“Well, I’ll leave for Tarth without prior notice then. Considering all, it seems the right decision.”

Tyrion shrugged. “The right one? I don’t know, but it seems the best one under the circumstances. Even if she doesn’t go to Tarth, she might have told her father where she intended to go and you might pry it out of him.”

Nodding once in agreement, Jaime got up, too.

“If you’ll excuse me. I have to find Pod and Bronn, inform Lady Stark that I’ll be leaving and pack a few things.”

“Do that. I wish you the best of luck, and maybe if you feel so inclined, you could send me a raven so I know how you’re faring.”  
It was the most care the two of them had shown for each other in years and Jaime was grateful that at least one of his convoluted relationships seemed to be on the mend.

“I will.”

Before fresh doubts could meddle with his decision, he left.

***

Brienne rode as quickly as she dared, always mindful of the horse Lady Sansa had allowed her to take. She needed to get away. Oh, she knew there was no way to get away from herself, her fears and her doubts. And yet…

She had to leave, and once she had made the decision, she knew she would stick to it. If it was the right one remained to be seen. For the first time in years she was scared, wasn’t sure she was doing the right thing.

She had lost her main purpose in life with the end of the war, and although she could have stayed with the Starks, it wouldn’t have been right.

On the one hand there was her father, and Tarth, where a heir was sorely needed and on the other hand there was that offer… It was as tempting as it was terrifying, and although she was grateful for the trust placed into her, she wasn’t sure she was worthy of it, was the right woman for the job.

Hardly noticing the landscape, she only stopped late at night, having purchased some food at an inn before finding a mostly hidden cave far enough from any of the populated roads. While chewing on a piece of bread, her thoughts went unbidden to Jaime. By now he would know she had left, would have read her letter.

Was he following her? She hoped not. A part of her wanted him to, but she knew she couldn’t bear to talk to him now, maybe not for a long time to come. Pretty dreams were for pretty, innocent girls, and although Jamie Lannister might doubt he would be of interest for any pretty girls, she knew better. He was shockingly attractive, missing hand or not and his biting sarcasm aside, he was a good man, a noble one.  
Jaime and she… they couldn’t be more than friends. Ever. The very thought was laughable. No man as good looking as Jaime Lannister would want a woman considered ugly by most. The sad thought made her heart constrict.

She forced Jaime from her thoughts, let her thoughts wander back to Tarth, the home she had once known.

She still had a few days to decide. Tarth… or the offer, and she didn’t know what she would to. Time would tell; it always did.


End file.
